fer ! ' '
No letter from Joseph. Knowing how prudent he is, I am not greatly astonished at his silence, but it causes me a little suffering. To be sure, Joseph is not unaware that the letters go through Madame 'Â§ hands before reaching ours, and doubt- less he does not wish to expose himself or me to the danger of their being read by her, or even have the fact that he writes to me made a subject of Madame' s malicious comments. Yet, with his great mental resources, it seems to me that he could have found a way of sending me news. He is to return to-morrow morning. Will he return? I am not without anxiety, and cannot keep from thinking about it. Why, too, was he unwilling to give me his Cherbourg address? But I do not wish to think of all these things, that split my head and put me into a fever.
Here everything goes on in the same way, ex- cept that there are fewer events and still greater silence. Joseph's work is done by the sacristan, out of friendship. He comes every day, punctu- ally, to groom the horses and to tend to the garden- frames. Impossible to get a single word out of him. He is more silent and suspicious than Joseph, and his manners are more dou